Forgotten
by demonsfangs
Summary: Silver's fledgling remembering how she came to be changed. R&R, flames keep me warm, chap 8 up finally.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: GAH! I'm writing again, what's wrong with me? Well, this is something. I don't know what yet, but I think I'll have fun with it. Female vamp in first person, talking about herself and vamps in general. Silver is mentinoed, he's of course not mine, but amelia's ... so is this world. the character's mine though ... Enjoy :)

It was a long time ago, and yet I still remember every single detail, as if it were yesterday. Yet to one such as me, it really wasn't that long ago.

I was young and foolish, or more so than I am now. It started with a black rose and ended with red blood and since that day. That godforsaken day. The day on which I was changed. I have only worn black and red, to mourn that which I lost the second I picked up that rose; that god forsaken ebony rose. I lost humanity that day, and the chance to live and die and follow the normal paths through nature, follwing her bidding. I am now unnatural. Supernatural even. Above and beyond any human that dares to cross my path. I've had millenia to hone my talent.

But still, I was once human.

I cannot recall the days immediately following my change, but I can well remember the change itself. Such pain is not easily forgotten. Pain that sizzled through my being until the very fibers of my muscles had seemed wrenched apart. Pain that pales in comparison to that which i am now able to inflict. I remember dying, and I remember living again. And yet, it was not another life. It was walking death. My lungs no longer inflated with the air that is so precious to humans. Blood was not forced through my frigid veins. There is much to be said for exsanguination when it's all said and done. There is peace to be found in the lack of a beating heart.

And yet here I am, my emotions over the years have been whittled away until just one remains: bloodlust. Lust to kill, lust to hurt, lust to feed. Vampires use humans as means to an end. And prey are not worthy of notice. Even the pretty ones.

When I was younger, humans were playthings to me, I was a trainer at the first Midnight, but since then Ii have fallen from view. Breaking humans, however, still excites me. Sadistic? Yes, but you must remember dear one. I am not one of you. Nor will I ever again be.

Until our next meeting, may your blood flow freely young one and may you burn with pain human

Kali, blood daughter of Silver.


	2. Chapter 2

Nostalgia plagues me of late. While I lie in solitude memories slowly work their way up from the depths of my mind; memories most ancient, memories of life.

_I was anemic while I lived. My disease left me with alabaster skin. I had dark hair and changeling eyes, one a clear calm blue, the other a pale gray green. And I was thin, so thin and weak. My parents and siblings despised me for my strangeness. _

When I was young, I was given to wandering through the nights. My disease left me weak, and so I could not work, play or do many of the things my peers often enjoyed. And so I wandered, slowly I made my way from field to forest to lake in the wilds beyond my home.

_It was false dawn, the forest dripping with the remnants of the previous day's rain. And for the first time in my nightly wanderings, I was not alone. _

_There was a man, a beautiful man, sitting upon my thinking rock. His face hard and cold, his beauty tainted by bloody lips and slender white fangs. To anyone else he would have been someone to fear. But I was not afraid. _

_He leapt down and approached me and still I was not afraid. I could only marvel at this specter before me, this tall figure of black, red and white, holding an ebony rose. _

_We stood in silence for some time, I, too awed by his presence to speak, and he, contemplating the black flower in his hands. As the sun tipped over the horizon he raised his gaze to mine. His eyes were black, bottomless pits that I couldn't help but want to get lost in. He bent down, placed the rose in my hands and kissed my neck gently, beneath my jaw. I was paralyzed, though not by fear, and I could not move until he disappeared. Then slowly, as if being unfrozen, my fingers moved to clench the stem of the flower and my other hand moved to rub away his kiss. I gasped sharply as a thorn dug into my palm. I brought my other hand to the wound to tear out the offender but stopped, dropped the rose and stared at my hands. _

_They did not seem my own, both covered in the blood I could not spare, and I stood there unable to break away my gaze. _

_Nights later I would realize what scared me most about the encounter. Not the appearance of a strange man, nor the giving of the flower, but only how right it felt to have blood on my palms. It was then that I began to fear the nameless man._

It was my first meeting with Silver, my blood father, though obviously not my last. It would be years until I saw him again. But he had marked me in blood with that rose and through it, marked m as one of his own. I had been only nine at our first encounter and already he was older than the oldest in our village. But I did not know that, as I did not know what he was. I told no one about him, and perhaps that was my downfall. But it does no good to stir upon things one can not change and so I settle my self into a chair and fall asleep.

Like my entire race, I will not dream tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks after my encounter with my blood father-to-be the Brynja visited our village. I had often heard of the small clan, though I was rarely allowed to see them. They were wanderers mostly, a clan formed entirely of young women. And they were different. They were fierce, mystical women who needed no men. In my village they were well tolerated as some years they were the only traders we saw. Their eyes seemed to hold deep secrets when they came to our village to trade for wool and though they had come twice a year, every year since before my birth, this was the first time their eyes had lingered on me.

The tallest of them, a graceful woman with dark hair and copper toned skin sat by me and smoothed my hair back from my face with one hand. Though she spoke to my father her gaze never left my eyes. She seemed to find some sort of answer in their different colored depths. Another, shorter and with silver-blonde hair stood near the fire and warmed her hands. While she did not blatantly stare, her eyes flickered over to the corner where I sat more often than I thought was normal. I admit it unnerved me, them looking at me as they did. I did not know these women, had never known them and mostly avoided them. But here one of them sat next to me, finger combing my hair idly as if I had grown up with her. I shivered, but since my father did not seem to mind, I did not back away. My sisters never brushed my hair and mother claimed not to have time for such things. The feeling of the hand, working out the knots and tangles, was soporific.

When my father left to gather the fleeces from the back room, the shorter moved towards me and both continued staring. Finally the brown-skinned one spoke. "Such eyes you have, child. I have never seen the like. Such skin, and such hair." She murmured as she stroked my face. But I did not shiver from her touch. Though she was of different colorings, she reminded me vaguely of that man I had met that wet night almost a month ago, they both did. I admit, I was intrigued. "Perhaps Sezjah," she whispered to her companion, "she will join us when she is older, no?"

The other, Sezjah apparently, trailed a hand down my jaw to the very place that man's lips had touched my neck. No matter how I washed there was now a small dark red line when his mouth had touched my skin, barely visible. She winced and spoke slowly, "Perhaps there are other plans for her, she has been marked by my brother it seems."

"Your brother?" the words fell out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying or what it meant.

She surveyed me silently then gave a small nod. "Yes, my brother. He marked you. Just here." Her fingers fluttered over the bruise. "You may not have even known he did it."

"I _knew_."

I gasped covered my mouth with a hand and shrank into the corner, wondering at the fierceness in my voice. I had never been one to speak unless absolutely necessary. I had always been quiet, hoping that by staying so, people would fail to notice my strangeness. Now, twice in less than a minute, I had spoken to two women I hardly even knew more words with more emotion than I had said or felt in the last week.

The nameless one laughed, showing pearly teeth that almost seemed sharpened to points. "Yes, fiery... She would do well with us when it came time. Mayhap I will talk to your brother about her; he has always given me whatever I wanted."

At that moment my father came back, bearing a large pile of fleece. The women stood and wandered over to settle the deal. While they were distracted with business I scuttled out the front door and ran, as soon as my foot crossed the threshold, to my thinking rock, only to find that several other of the Brynja were lounging upon it. Dark, questioning stares dug into my skin and again I fled. _Was there no end to these women?_ Finally I crawled up into the rafters of my house and stayed there. By the time I clambered down, the Brynja were gone, taking with them much wool, water carriers and two dogs. No one seemed to noticemy absence; after all, I often disappeared for hours on end, finding uses for myself that others could not see. That night it rained and I slept in the loft. My dreams were of copper-skinned sisters and pale-skinned men. And for the first time, I did not wander, though the rain was not cold and the moon was full. Those women had scared me more than the man. And I did not know why.


	4. Chapter 4

Life passed as normal after the Brynja left, and within a week I again began my nightly wanderings. My dreams eventually filled with normal thoughts like those of flying and of living a life without my oddities. I was at peace.

Spring became summer, summer became fall, when the Brynja came again I purposely hid in the forest and did not come out until darkness had fallen. And so life passed, in continuing normality and perpetual boredom.

But soon, my path through life would tumble off a cliff. For that winter, a plague struck the village in which I lived. My limited contact with others spared me, but my mother, both of my brothers and many of those in town were stricken and died. My father fell ill, but slowly recovered and my sister, Jara, the oldest child in the family, remained well. By spring, one in three houses stood empty, and not a single house was free from loss. I hid in the forest while the fevers raged, returning home only to offer what comfort I could as those around me died. I ate, slept and lived in the woods behind my home. I became entirely independent; I sought no companionship other than that which I could glean from the moon and trees. At the tender age of ten, I learned to use solitude as a cloak from the sorrows of the world.

That spring my father had recovered and Jara was quickly married to Vovra, a man more than twice as old as me, though only four years older than my sister. I believe the hope was that they would have children before my father died, for though he had recovered from the illness that had struck our town, his health steadily declined.

Vovra, according to the customs of our town, took Jara to live with him and his parents in their home. Jara seemed happy, but I had not been close to her for many years. I did not come to the wedding. There was no place for me there. What was left of my family was already forgetting me.

That summer, more than a year after my first encounter with both Silver and the women of the Brynja, things changed.

Vovra took my sister and left the town of his birth. My father succumbed to old age and passed away in the middle of a stormy night and the Brynja came to me the second time.

I was almost eleven when they came back. Fear of illness had kept them away until two weeks before midsummer. It was only coincidence that I ventured to the village on that day, by this time most people there had forgotten I existed, for I only visited when my wandering brought me near. Perhaps the nostalgia that plagues me now was visiting me then, for they found me in my father's house, sitting on the hearth stone with my knees hugged to my chest. Tears were running down my cheeks, but I remained lost in my thoughts, remembering what it had been like to live with other people. To be truly happy.

Sezjah was back, along with another woman, somewhat older than she was, with pale skin, deep green eyes, strong arms and long fingers.

I did not notice them until they stood before me, and then I only gazed at them. No spoken words had passed my lips in months; I had almost forgotten how to speak. And so they were greeted with silent stares and blinking.

Sezjah murmured to the other woman, "This is the one my brother marked, Rhian. He says I may have her, until she's older at least. Isn't she intriguing?"

Rhian shrugged and replied, " I don't see why you want her, her eyes are nothing extremely special and she doesn't look like she knows how to talk. Besides, she's filthy. Are you sure she's not dull-witted? " She peered into my face with a disdainful look upon her face.

Sezjah grinned at that. " She's been through a lot, and I hear she hasn't been living in the village so of course she's filthy. But...she's mine." With that the two women scooped me up and walked out of the hut with me in their arms. I did not resist but even if I had, I doubt it would have gotten me anywhere. The hands that held me were strong and kept me tight. I felt neither the will to struggle nor the interest to ask what was going to happen to me. I just sat in their arms, gazing blankly at the ground.

Rhian and Sezjah carried me to their sisters, exchanged pleasantries and dumped me onto a cart. I could have left, but I did not, for now curiosity had taken the place of nostalgia and I was interested in this turn my life was taking. I had no idea what to expect as the cart rumbled off and I caught my last glimpse of what had been my home.


	5. Chapter 5

short chap. i know.. i've got no time ... maybe once school's over? ... whatev. i'm sorry

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The Brynja lived out of wagons, like the standard Traveling People in any faerie tale. They settled only for the most brutal of winter's months and spent the rest of the time wandering, trading and working their business.

Since I was only ten, I had never thought to ask what their business was, but as I sat upon that rattling cart, I realized I had no idea what I had been gotten into. Three other carts rumbled along side mine as I buried myself in thought.

As we moved towards our destination, I questioned myself about my knowledge of the clan. I discovered that I knew very little.

While not entirely secretive, the Brynja was a community of recluses, as far as I understood, young women between the ages of maybe eighteen and thirty. They seemed pretty harmless as people went, and they carried themselves with a certain bearing that proved to me their involvement in something secretive and powerful; it was a grace of sorts, but contained within them was a dark and mysterious pride.

Later I would discover that everyone single one of them was either a vampire or a blood-bonded human. Nor, at the time, did I know that I would later come to fill both roles. All my youth understood was that I was entering an unknown life with strangers and had no idea what to expect.


	6. Chapter 6

i felt like a bad writer for making such a short short pathertic little chapter, that i wrote another one. a longer one. and here 'tis. Maybe i won't feel like such a failure after this. I could have stuck this together with 5, but i am lazy. oh well. enjoy i guess.

* * *

It took us almost three hours to reach the Byrnja's encampment. I was asleep for much of the ride and barely remember our entrance into the camp. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that I had no idea where I was, and only the slightest inclination as to with whom I was now living.

I was woken that next morning by a shaft of brilliant light. Food had been laid out for me and no one appeared to be nearby. I had fallen asleep on the wagon I'd come in upon and the horses were still harnessed to it. I waited and watched, surrounded by thick trees, sure that if I ventured out among them I would quickly be lost. I finished my meal, dusted off my clothes and jumped down from the wagon. As I walked towards the horses, I heard a soft footstep behind me. I turned to find that man whom I had met more than a year earlier.

He was still beautiful and he was still dressed in black. He was the brother of Sezjah, and I could see the similarities in his face that named him as her kin.

I found myself with nothing to say as he approached me and ran a hand lightly over my hair.

"You've grown…" he remarked with a bit of a smirk. The humor was lost on me as I attempted to sound as cold and aloof as he did.

"Of course."

His smirk grew into a grin, a beautiful grin with teeth still too white and still too sharp. The last time I had seen him his eyes had been black and eternal and I had found myself wanting to be lost in them. Now they were a bright ash gray that, somehow, did not seem oxymoronic. Streaks of silver highlighted them as I looked up instead of at his pale fangs. The immortal's eyes seemed the most human part about him, despite their unearthly color, and yet they took the breath from my lungs and stilled the blood in my veins. I was immediately entranced.

After a period of time, it may have been several moments, a minute or a lifetime (I wasn't sure and I didn't care), his face became serious and he blinked, breaking the gaze that had held me so fast.

"Do you know why you are here?" he inquired.

"I have nowhere else to go," I responded, a little confused. Surely he would know as well as I why I was here, after all, hadn't his sister asked for his permission to keep me?

He got down on one knee in order to get closer to me and smiled a sad slow smile. "You are here, little one, because I wanted you here. With my sister you will be safe, and you will be mine."

The words were spoken lightly, and for a split second, the idea of belonging to this gorgeous stranger seemed almost nice. _I must remind you, I did not yet know anything of his world, of this world, and I saw no reason to be truly afraid._

He withdrew, stood up and looked coldly down at my multi-hued gaze for a long minute. His face was like polished marble in snow and showed nothing of his thoughts. I wanted to see something on his face, emotion in his eyes, anything that would promise me further conversation with this being whose feet I probably would have kissed. And so I asked, "Wh- What is your name.?"

A small crack appeared in the buffered stone, " Call me Silver," he replied. "And I never did bother to ask you yours…" He waited for a reply.

I gulped, stood straighter, took a deep breath, I had always liked my name, and responded with what he would later refer to as 'all the dignity of my blood mother'. "You may call me Rikka."

"Rikka," he mused, "Rikka…". He seemed rather troubled by this announcement. "No that won't do…" He cocked his head and looked down at me. "How would you like a new name, a public name. I will call you Rikka, of course, but your common name… How do you like Adriana, or Kali?

I was sorely tempted to pout, but the name Kali seemed a strong one, and I immediately took a liking to it.

"Kali... that's one's all right I guess."

Later I would discover that he had named me after a Hindu goddess of death, but that discovery would not be made for many years and at that moment, we were both satisfied.


	7. Chapter 7

Yes, i know. it's been too long. summer does not lend itself to writing vamp fics. PotC ones are apparently well good tho. eh. my muse is on something. I banged this out because I felt bad. enjoy my guilt. it makes me write. now review so i don't feel worse.

disclaimer. yadda yadda yadda. Kali and Sezjah and plot and whatnot are mine. Silver is not. world is not. you know who it belongs to, you're reading fanfic.

the little line breaker thingy is not working so... tadah

---------------------------------------------------

"Well, Rikka," Silver remarked, straightening from his crouch. "Let us go greet your new sisters. They have been waiting for you."

He held out his hand towards me and his face returned to the look of frozen stone. I wiped my fingers on the back of my shift and lightly clasped his hand.

There was no warmth in those fingers.

We headed out through the forest, Silver checking his long graceful stride to match mine. We followed no path visible to my eye but soon enough the sounds of campfires and of horses and of women's voices reached us. We crested a small rise and looked down into a hollow in the hill. Spread across the forest floor were the tents, wagons and fires of the Brynja clan. The only man in sight stood beside me.

No awkward stares met us as we descended into the camp, the occasional woman smiled or nodded in greeting but no one stopped us as we wound our way through, and no one seemed surprised. As we passed the largest tent, Sezjah stepped out from behind a wagon, grabbed her brother by the shirtsleeve and wordlessly invited us into the dwelling. I was surprised by her sudden appearance but Silver just nodded and followed her inside, holding back the tent flap so I could enter.

The inside of the tent was dark and smelled of animal furs and a heady incense I couldn't identify. A small fire, mostly embers, burned in a fire ring and large mats, woven from ferns, circled the stone pit.

Sezjah walked to the fire, crouched by it and dropped a few crushed leaves onto the burning coals. The smell intensified but it was not unpleasant. She stood, brushed off her hands and turned to face us. I stood meekly behind Silver and peered at her work.

"Welcome sister," Sezjah greeted me with a nod. "And welcome, my brother, we are again well met."

I glanced at Silver before replying, " I'm not your sister."

Sezjah quirked an eyebrow, laughingly. "You are Brynja, little one, and all Brynja are family. Every woman here would welcome you, some more than others, even if you are young enough to be their daughters and old enough to be…"

Silver released my hand and interrupted his sister, giving her a reproachful glare; "This is not the time to speak to Kali of such things, my sister. Your friend wanted her, you wanted her, and she is here. Corrupt her on your own time when I do not have to be present."

Sezjah raised and eyebrow and laughed aloud. "Since when has the corrupter cared about the innocent, Silver? Go and play with your friend Siete, Kali will be here for your pleasure if you, too, want her."

I admit. That had me confused. And a little scared. But you can only fear something as far as you can imagine it. And what these women were a part of, I couldn't begin to imagine.

Slowly, as the siblings bickered over my head, something in the incense made my head feel heavy and my eyelids droop. I ended up bundled onto a mat and curled around a blanket as brother and sister stood above me and raged quietly at each other. Sezjah spoke of a naming ritual and Silver replied with impatience but I slept and dreamed, and thought nothing of it. I dreamt the dreams of a child.

It would be the last time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, what can i say? ... i felt bad...  
**

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I rose the next morning to the tingle of cold on my toes and the smell of cooking meat. I yawned, stretched, tossed my blanket to the side and set off to find food.

Several women were standing around a wagon outside. There was no sign of either Silver or Sezjah nearby. I noticed Rhian, the tall woman who had carried me from my village, leaning against the wagon wheel and wandered towards her. She was simply a familiar face and I approached her as humbly as a beggar approaches a king.

"Is there food… sister?" The appellation felt strange on my lips but she nodded and pointed to a small fire at the center of a circle of wagons. The smells of porridge and cooking meat intensified as I came closer but I was without bowl or spoon and did not want to steal one. I stumbled back over to the women to beg a spoon. One threw me a roughly carved bowl and told me to keep it. I thanked her, gratefully and hurried back to the small pot of food. I ate as only a child can, with the pangs of hunger slowly subsiding until almost the entire bowl was gone. It was the first time I'd eaten cooked food in almost six months.

I was too absorbed in my bowl to notice that Sezjah and several other had appeared behind me by the time I was finishing up. I wiped my mouth on the back of a grimy sleeve, stood up and turned to go return the bowl to the place where I had slept. I took not even a step before running into Sezjah. She grinned down at me in a predatory way as I took a step back. A hand with long fingers grasped my shoulder and steered me in front of her. We walked quickly towards the edge of camp, her stride was long and I spent half the time tripping over roots and the other half being hauled up again.

"Come girl, it's time for you to be introduced and given a name, and for us to decide who wants you."

" But …. But I already have a name! And I thought _you_ wanted me?"

"You'll learn what I mean child. Now hurry up. I don't have time to explain."

"Where's Silver?" I shot at her, angry for being hurried off and practically ignored.

"Gone. He hates staying here; too many women who are related to him."

We finally arrived at wherever it was that we'd been headed. It was a tent, larger than the one I'd slept in and from the sounds of it, full of women. Sezjah held back the tent flap and practically shoved me inside. The space was dark and that same incense was burning. Smoke stung my eyes as they adjusted to the darkness and Sezjah pushed me to the center.

As we approached a small table the room grew silent and all eyes fell upon us. A loud ringing grew in my ears and my pulse throbbed in my thumbs. I had always avoided any sort of attention and there were over 50 women here, all looking at me. Needless to say I felt as if I were crossing center stage naked and my cheeks heated with a rising blush. My anemia as child had often left me feeling faint. Blacking out was a regular occurrence for me and headaches and dizziness occurred almost as often. All three struck me at the same time and I promptly sat down on the rug covered floor. My vision went dark but I could still hear as the worried voices of those around me rose to a buzz. It almost a minute before I could rise again but, for once, Sezjah was patient with me. When I finally stood, silence fell over the tent again and Sezjah turned me to face the crowd and placed both of her hands on my shoulders.

"Sisters, this is one who would join us. She is young, with no family and great spirit. But she is marked already as one of us. Shall we accept her?" Sezjah's voice rang out, brassy and cold as she met the eyes of every woman in the tent. I stared up at her, confused but she covered my lips with a frigid hand and did not look at me.

The gazes of the multitude of women turned towards me and once again I was on stage. I caught snatches of conversation from them but understood little.

"Strange eyes…"

"… and already marked?"

"See how she stands…"

"… she survive the change?"

Finally a tall woman with fiery red hair approached us and took a small knife from the table behind me. She traced the knife gently across the flesh of her thumb and squeezed the wound until a small line of blood appeared, then with little ceremony she did the same to my cheek, only deeper. She pressed her thumb into my cut and murmured,"Blood meets blood. Welcome sister. I am Chale." She pulled her thumb away, licked away the mingled blood and wandered back into the darkness. Sezjah's stance loosened, as if a great burden had been lifted but I barely noticed as I stared after the women who had wounded me so.

Another woman approached me, and then another and another. Soon it seemed that every woman present had pressed her thumb to my cheek. And each said the say thing, 'Blood meets blood.' Some introduced themselves, most did not and a few just stared at me with dark cold eyes, barely uttering the ritual statement. During the ritual my own blood was kept from running down my face by their thumbs but when the women were finished I shrank back and hunched my shoulders, putting my hand to my face to comfort the stinging wound, completely confused. But Sezjah was not yet done with me. She grabbed my hand away from my face and shunted me back in front of the table.

She spoke facing be, but her voice carried and it was not really to me she spoke. "Welcome sister. Blood meets blood. You have been welcomed among us. Now choose the name you would wish your sisters to call you that you may in time forget your old life."

I was not sure that I _wanted_ to forget my old life but I remembered the conversation I had had with Silver the day before and swallowed several times before spitting out, "Kali. My name is Kali."

The women murmured this name in unison and though I had just claimed it, I did not feel that they spoke of me.

Suddenly, as if a dam had just broken, the women began to leave the tent in clusters and soon it was only Sezjah and I left in the tent. Then, from the darkness, the first woman who had touched me, Chale, came near. She bent down on both knees and looked me in the eye. Sezjah watched her, not entirely unpleased as she wiped the blood from my face.

"Welcome little sister. May we be well met. You are young to have joined us, as I was. You may visit me whenever you like. Come with me and I will get you new clothes. I work with cloth and can make you some pretty things if you like." She brushed some hair back from my forehead. "We'll even see if Rhian will make you a knife. Would you like that?" I nodded because I felt it was the right thing to do, not out of any interest in having a knife. Her voice was warm and kind, her touch was light, but her eyes spoke of something unfamiliar and burned with a strange light.

"Sezjah?" Chale turned her body to face the older woman with a questioning glace. "If I may?"

"Of course. Bring her back to me when she smells better. I am grateful to you my sister."

"You should be."

_The exchange was confusing to me, but I guessed that Sezjah was glad that Chale was going to clean me for her. Little did I know that Chale, though young, was powerful within the Brynja. If she or another of her strength had not stood for me, then I would not have been welcomed as I was. I would have been harassed at every moment until someone took it too far and I was beaten within an inch of death. Sezjah could even have been banished for daring to bring in an outsider who was not welcomed. You think this strange, but once I was older I would watch it happen to another woman, one whom I could do nothing for. _


End file.
